Remnants
by Lt. Basil
Summary: Rex went to the temple in search of closure. What he found was a scared teenage boy. Now he and a handful of other rebel clones are pulled into a challenge like none that they've ever faced before - protecting a rogue Jedi from an Empire which searches for nothing more than to destroy him. This is gonna be a tough one. Eventual Hera/Kanan and Kix/OC.
1. Rescue

**A/N: I'm only gonna say this once: I DO NOT OWN STAR WARS: REBELS. **

**REX NEEDS TO SHOW UP IN REBELS! If he doesn't, I will be SO mad... he and Ahsoka and Echo and Gregor all need to be there. That would be so great...sooo... anyway, here's this to satisfy that want.  
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**NOTE: "XXX" means a time lapse and/or scene change. "..." means that the scene stays the same but the POV changes.**

The Coruscant morning was eerily silent. Orange sunlight filtered between the skyscrapers, washing the city in a shining, firelike glow. Few airspeeders were out and about – an unusual phenomenon on the urban planet, which was normally a bursting metropolis buzzing with activity. Blood and burnt flesh could be smelled in lingering vestiges in the air, similarly to how a field would smell after a fierce battle. There was a somber note in the air which pressed in on every side in an oppressive tide of grief. Something terrible had no doubt happened.

At the gates of the Jedi Temple, all was silent. Blood and scorch marks charred the ground all around it, though the fallen bodies which had produced them had long since been removed. Cracked and even shattered pavement made the grounds all around an immense tripping hazard (though this didn't stop most of the looters – they weren't about to let a few rocks keep them away from all of the riches to be found inside). Bits of stone from the crumbling walls littered the ground around the entrance, taking with them a great cloud of dust that filtered through the air in lazy, swirling particles.

By this time, three days after the catastrophe had happened, virtually no one bothered to go up to the temple anymore. There was no one around.

Save one.

Rex stood stock-still at the entrance, staring up at the towering archways quietly. He was no longer dressed in the signature armor of a Republic captain – he was garbed in a dark brown tunic, black trousers, a grungy leather vest and a cloth cap that hung down over his eyes, shielding them from view. His stance was so tense and unmoving that some might have mistaken him for a stone statue. Grief hung around him in a suffocating cloud, so thick that it almost literally dimmed the light filling the area.

Bracing his shoulders, the man strode forward into the temple itself. Inside, he was met with even more destruction. Over half of the furniture was smashed or burnt, their scattered pieces littering the stone floor. The pillars were cracked and in some parts had broken off completely, leaving the ceiling to droop slightly under the weight of the floors above. Almost all of the potted plants had been utterly destroyed; and those that weren't were already starting to shrivel up from lack of care. In a few weeks, they'd die completely.

Shivering, the clone moved on. Though he had not lived in the temple like the generals had, his feet remembered every corridor, every twist and turn, by heart. With an almost crazed energy, the soldier darted through the halls, hopping over piles of debris and slipping through partially-caved in doorways, searching for his destination. He passed the Room of a Thousand Fountains without even a sideways glance – though the fountains were smashed, the water in them pooling out onto the floor, that wasn't where he needed to go.

After a few more turns, he emerged into the Jedi Council room. It was the only place, it seemed, to be spared from the destruction. With a trembling gait, Rex stepped forward to stand in the center of the chamber. Once, he only would have come inside when called to – now, of course, there was no one to call him. For the first time, he stood alone in the room. All around him, the empty chairs mocked him, reminding him of the reality of what had happened to their owners...blaming him for their deaths.

_Not me, _he told himself sharply. _My kind. My brothers... how could they do this?_

Of course, he knew the answer. They had been manipulated, controlled. The Chancellor had hijacked them, forced them to fight... just like Fives had warned him that he would...

So in a way, he supposed it really _was _his fault.

He shouldn't have waited until the last minute to listen. What was the point in getting the chip out of himself if all of his brothers still had it? If he had acted sooner... if he had listened, if he had taken Fives' words to heart, if he had told the Jedi what was coming... this wouldn't have even happened.

Outside, the sun had finally risen above the horizon line. The sky was painted a pinkish blue – what cruel irony it was for the day to be so fair after what had happened! – and the yellow sun reflected its light off of the buildings like a beacon. Feeling as if his chest was caving in, Rex turned to face the city. Activity was still slow, as if the planet was still in shock over the horror that had occurred not three days ago. The only people he could see were a few of his brothers patrolling the streets, calling out to one another whenever they spotted something suspicious.

A knot began to form in Rex's stomach. Straining his eyes, he tried to see if he could figure out who any of them were. Most of them were too far away to be identified. However... there was Cody, Appo, Fox and... was that Bly? Rex flinched and turned away, unable to stand looking at them anymore. Guilt squeezed his heart to dust. If only he had warned them... for all he knew, whatever had forced them to fire on the Jedi could be permanent...

The sound of a lightsaber being activated behind him jerked him out of his musings. Whirling around, Rex found himself face-to-face with a brown-haired, green-eyed teenage boy. Said boy was also pointing a blue bladed lightsaber at his chest threateningly. Rex just stared at him, dumbfounded.

"N-now hear this, c-clone!" the boy forced out, both his voice and his hands shaking with fear. "You're n-not w-welcome here! L-leave, mur-murderer!" He raised the saber, prepared to strike.

Rex crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. Crossing over to the boy, he shoved the boys shoulder, throwing off his center of balance. While he was trying to steady himself, Rex snatched the lightsaber out of his hands and switched it off. The boy fell backwards onto the ground. He looked up to stare at the clone fearfully. Reaching out, the captain grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet.

"Are you crazy?!" he hissed, giving the boy a hard look. "What if someone spots you?! You want to end up like _them?_" He gestured at the ring of seats for emphasis.

The boy stared up at him stupidly, his mouth half-open in an expression of shock. Regaining his composure, he began to thrash violently, trying to worm his way out of the captain's grip. Grimacing, Rex let him go, watching grimly as the boy once again lost his balance and fell on his rear. The boy stared up at him, terrified.

Something inside of Rex's chest gave a painful wrench. Kneeling down in front of the poor kid, he held out the lightsaber to him. The boy stared at it uncertainly. Rex sighed.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, kid," he said quietly. The boy raised a skeptic eyebrow. Face softening, Rex laid the lightsaber down at its owner's feet and added, "I promise."

Hesitantly, his eyes never leaving Rex's face, the boy snatched up the lightsaber and clutched it tightly in both hands. Rex offered the kid what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The boy relaxed, just a little bit. He didn't smile back, though. His eyes were still locked onto the clone distrustfully.

"What's your name, kid?" Rex asked the boy. The boy relaxed a little more.

"Caleb," he replied quietly. "Caleb Dume."

Rex milled the name around in his head. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Shaking himself, he glanced at the boy and asked; "What are you doin' here? How'd you survive the attack?"

Caleb looked at his hands. "My master told me to run," he said quietly. "So I did. But... the clones cut me off, so I hid in the vents until they were gone. But... now I can't leave. They're everywhere." He shuddered. "If I go out –"

"They'll kill you," Rex finished with a sigh. Caleb nodded, eying him warily. Looking at the Jedi robes he was draped in, he muttered, "You'll stand out worse than a mythosaur if you go out like that..." Caleb hugged himself.

Rex thought for a few moments before pulling off his cap and vest and handing them to the boy. Caleb stared down at them for a moment before raising his eyebrows at Rex. The clone shrugged.

"It's the best I can do," he said quietly. "You're gonna want to lose those robes if you want to get out of here in one piece. Got any spot in here where you can get civvie clothes...?"

Caleb shrugged. "I don't know. This place is _huge..._"

"Figures." Rex scowled, casting his eyes around the area. "Well... we should at least look around..." He turned towards the chamber's exit, more than happy to escape those mocking, empty seats. The clone started forward, but stopped when he realized that Caleb wasn't behind him. He glanced over his shoulder.

The padawan stood rooted in place, his hands still tight on his lightsaber and his eyes still narrowed with suspicion. With a mixture of sympathy and mild irritation, Rex called over his shoulder, "You comin'?"

Caleb's eyes wavered. "How do I know I can trust you?"

At this point, Rex's patience was running _very _thin. Turning to face the boy once again, he crossed his arms and raised his brows. "Kid, I just returned your lightsaber to you and turned my back to you. If that's not proof that I'm not here to hurt you, I don't know _what _is."

For a few tense seconds, Caleb didn't budge an inch. His eyes burned into Rex, trying to gauge whether or not he was being sincere. Far from being offended, the clone found himself getting a bit irritated by the delay – he was almost tempted to just go and leave the boy to his own devices.

Almost. If not for what he knew the consequences of that would be.

Finally, Caleb relaxed his tensed arms and moved to follow Rex. The clone nodded at him and cracked a slight smile. Once again, the padawan did not return it. Rex let it slide.

"Come on, kid. Let's get you out of here."

XXX

A short distance away, in the shadow of one of the many humongous skyscrapers that made Coruscant so famous, sat a mottled, decrepit freighter. It perched precariously on the surface of a weathered landing platform, its landing gear pressing menacingly against the weak surface of the structure. Slight creaks could be heard every now and again whenever a large gust of wind buffeted against the ship's hull.

From his place inside the cockpit, Echo could see the Jedi Temple clearly. Its square base, towering spires, wings, and courtyards shone in the light of the sunrise, glowing like a beacon of orange-pink light. At a distance, one could almost believe that everything was normal, that the last three days had not turned the once proud structure into a crumbling graveyard. It stood as tall and regal as ever, a defiant pinnacle of the past in the newly dubbed "Imperial City" (the name alone made Echo's skin crawl). It was hard to believe, from a distance, that such a palace had become a tomb.

In the back, Echo could hear the handful of his brothers who had chosen to remain at the ship talking in hushed tones. A sad smile graced the man's features. Yes, here they were - the last protective barrier between the Empire and the Jedi Order - a ragtag group of soldiers who had defied the order and assisted in the escape of at least two dozen Jedi. Shaking his head, Echo covered his face with his hands, heaving a sigh. Beside him, the pilot, Skip, gave him a knowing glance.

"You okay?" Skip asked quietly. Echo raised his eyes to look at him.

"Are any of us?" he replied, his voice thick. Skip sighed and shut his mouth.

Presently, the sound of the boarding ramp being lowered caused the ARC to look up abruptly. Low, harried voices blended together in a breathless rush, followed by the sound of relieved laughter. Echo stood up.

The next second, one of the younger clones, Whiplash - an excitable boy with close-cut auburn hair - barged into the room, panting. Echo and Skip glanced at each other, the latter fingering his scruffy goatee nervously.

"The captain's back," Whiplash said breathlessly.

That was all the duo needed to hear; they pushed past the boy and darted down the hall, joining their other brothers as they crowded around the exit. Sure enough, standing right in front of the open ramp was Rex, dressed in civvie clothes and practically _slathered _in dust and soot.

Standing right next to him, his green eyes round with terror upon seeing all the clones, was a brown-haired teenage boy. A gray cap sat haphazardly on his head, partially concealing his face. He was garbed in a stained green shirt, tattered leather vest, and a pair of weathered gray trousers, held in place by an old leather belt.

The entire company stood in silence, gazing at the stranger with no small amount of curiosity. The kid backed up, bumping into Rex in his haste to pull away. Echo watched in confusion as his hand traveled to his belt. He had only a second to register the sight of the elongated cylinder he unclipped from his belt before a brilliant beam of blue light hissed into existence.

With a thrust of his hands, the boy used a wave of telekinesis to knock the clones flat. Echo fell back on his rear, groaning as his armor chafed into his posterior. Meanwhile, the Jedi had jumped forward and was now holding out his lightsaber in a threatening manner, waving it slowly, and shouting, "Get back! I'll use this if I have to!"

"Whoa!" Rex stepped towards the kid, only for him to turn and point his lightsaber at his chest. The captain didn't flinch. "Put that away, kid," he said, crossing his arms. "You'll hurt someone."

The boy's fingers tightened around the hilt. "You took me here to kill me!" he accused, not without a slight tremble in his voice. Rex sighed and massaged his temple as if he were nursing a migraine.

"Do you really think I would've gone through this much trouble if I wanted you dead?" he asked tiredly. The boy hesitated, his blade lowering just the slightest bit. Echo got up slowly, the others all following suit.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do; the kid's eyes got even wider, if that was possible, and he raised his saber again. Echo frowned.

"Give the kid some space, will ya?" one of the others called out.

With that statement, the spell was broken; the men all backed up and exited the corridor, intent on leaving Rex to calm the kid down. Echo moved to follow them, but paused when the captain called out, "Echo, hold up. You too, Kix." The clones in question halted in their tracks and glanced back at the captain. Rex nodded at them both. With a sigh, the two of them did as he asked.

,,,

Rex had expected something like this. After what had just happened, there was no way that someone could just bring a Jedi youngling into a ship full of clone troopers and expect him to stay calm. To be honest, the kid was doing better than the captain had thought he would. He hadn't tried to attack anyone yet - that was more than he'd ever anticipated.

The boy glared at the three remaining clones, lightsaber at the ready, green eyes rock hard. Rex didn't fail to notice the nervous glances that Echo and Kix threw his way. Their eyes were locked on Caleb's lightsaber. And for good reason, too - they'd all seen how much damage one of those could do.

"Don't think I won't use this if I have to," Caleb warned, glaring daggers at them. Echo and Kix glanced at each other.

"You won't have to," Rex promised, trying hard not to let his frustration show. _This is starting to feel like more trouble than it's worth... _"We're not gonna hurt you, Caleb."

"Why should I believe you?"

Rex wished he could answer that question. He was tired of the suspicion and the scowls and the threats. Putting the kid's mind at ease would do a lot for his already overwhelming stress level. The problem was, there was no answer he could give, no matter how honest, that could ever convince him. So instead of answering, he sighed and looked at the kid helplessly. Caleb raised his blade -

"What's wrong with your leg?" At Kix's worried voice, Caleb froze. As if by instinct, he glanced down at his calf. Rex looked too... and cursed himself for not noticing the dark stain just below his knee.

"N-nothing..." Kix ignored him, instead moving over to get a closer look. The Jedi was so shocked by the sudden change of tune that he didn't even resist the medic kneeling down and gently rolling up the pant leg to get a better look. Rex cringed at what he saw.

A bright red, stinking wound had formed on his shin, right below the knee. Pus and blood oozed out of it, streaking the surrounding skin with trails of yellow and red. The entire thing was inflamed, swollen to nearly twice its size, the edges ringed in black. Kix held his leg steady and prodded the area around it - Caleb let out a hiss of pain and yanked himself free of his grasp.

"Where did you get that?" Kix asked, frowning at the wound. Caleb looked away.

"One of the clones who invaded the temple clipped me in the leg," he explained, wincing. "It's nothing."

"Nothing, my shebs," Kix muttered, climbing to his feet. "That thing is infected. I'm gonna need to ask you to come to the medical chamber." Caleb opened his mouth to protest, but one stern look from the medic caused him to shut his mouth. Finally, he nodded, allowing the man to lead him away.

Echo and Rex gawked after him. "How does he _do _that?" Rex muttered. "Every time _I _tried to talk to him like that he pointed his lightsaber at my throat." Echo shrugged.

"We should get out of here, sir," Echo said quietly. "The longer we stay, the more danger he's in."

Rex nodded. "I'll get Skip."

**For the record, I don't think that what happens in this story is what ACTUALLY happened. This is just what my nerdy fangirl brain wishes would happen. Rex is... maybe not my ABSOLUTE favorite character in TCW (that was Waxer *sob*), but he's pretty high up there.  
>Also, I haven't read <em>A New Dawn <em>yet, so I apologize in advance for anything in this story that directly conflicts with the book ('cause I'm sure there'll be some). Let's just consider this a semi-AU for the time being, shall we?  
>Last, I realized that it is completely unrealistic for there to be no troopers guarding the temple, but it's too late now : Sorry about that... I will try to avoid issues like that in the future.  
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	2. Monsters or Men?

**A/N: Hi again!**

**First off, I'd like to thank the people who've left reviews so far. Reviews are what keep me motivated, so you can pat yourselves on the back for keeping this story afloat. **

**Now in response to your question, Stormcutter684; yes, Caleb (Kanan) is still going to meet and join the **_**Ghost **_**crew. This story is supposed to take place during the first two or three years of Caleb's exile. I'm trying to keep things as close to canon as possible – nothing in the book or the show will change.**

**Speaking of the book... I finally read **_**A New Dawn**_**! (or most of it, anyway... still got a few more chapters to go...) Watch out for a time skip or epilogue chapter at the end that takes place on Gorse, people, 'cause I am sure as heck planning one.**

**I hope you guys enjoy chapter 2! Reviews are greatly appreciated!**

Caleb wasn't sure why he'd followed the clone. Maybe it was because he was so taken off guard by his concern for his leg. Perhaps he was in so much shock that he couldn't of what else he was supposed to do. Or maybe it was simply due to the fact that his leg felt like it was on fire and this guy had a way to soothe it. Who knows?

But when Caleb was seated on the cot in the medbay for treatment, it finally occurred to him that he had just placed himself at the mercy of one of the monsters who had killed his friends. Panic started building up in his chest. His eyes flitted over to his lightsaber, which the clone had placed on top of the lab table on the other end of the room. Just a flick of his wrist and he could call it to him and strike down the clone. Then he could run back to the ramp and...what? Inwardly groaning, Caleb put his face in his hands. He could feel the engine humming beneath his feet. They were airborne. He couldn't leave – and Jedi or no, he didn't like his chances against twenty or so armed clone troopers, so hijacking the ship was also out of the question.

Opposite of him, the clone was rummaging through a storage cylinder, evidently looking for something to treat his leg with. Caleb watched him apprehensively, filled with a bizarre mixture of terror and curiosity. The boywas surprised to see that he wasn't carrying a blaster – the holster was there on the side of his belt, but it was empty. Strange... then, of course, there was the fact that he seemed so _relaxed, _as if it didn't bother him that one of the newly formed Empire's sworn enemies was sitting barely ten feet away from him. Caleb just couldn't wrap his head around it.

Presently, the clone turned back around to face him, bacta in hand. His mouth was set in a firm line, eyes grave as they examined Caleb's wound. Scooping up a wad of clean bandages and a bottle of antiseptic from the lab table, he moved back towards him purposefully. Alarmed, the padawan shrunk back in his seat and tried to pull his leg away (only to hiss in pain at the horrific burning sensation that followed). The medic paused, lowering his arms cautiously. Caleb watched him with no small amount of apprehension, still unwilling to trust him.

Not after what had happened. Not after what the clones had done.

Not yet.

"If that burn doesn't get treated soon, you might have to lose the leg," the clone remarked quietly. There was pity in his voice, intermixed with what Caleb thought sounded like genuine concern. He shook the thought away.

Crossing his arms over his chest in a protective fashion, Caleb choked out, "What are you going to do with me?"

The clone seemed taken aback by the question. "Well... I was hoping to patch up that hole in your shin," he began cautiously, not moving a muscle. Caleb stared at him, disbelieving. After a moment of tense silence, the medic asked, "Can I take a look at it?"

Caleb hesitated. Shivering, he shifted his gaze from his lightsaber, to the clone's empty holster, to his face, and finally to the medpac in his hand. Wincing, the padawan kneaded the knees of his trousers with his flexing fingers. He bit his lip in thought. _Can I trust him? He... doesn't seem like he wants to hurt me..._

_Did any of them _SEEM _that way five minutes before they put blaster bolts through their generals' skulls? _Another part of him retorted.

_But... he really _did _look worried about my leg..._

_To make you trust him! _The other voice snapped. _He's trying to lure you into a false sense of security so that you won't be ready for the strike!_

_But why bother with that? _The more rational side of his brain shot back. _He's had plenty of chances to kill me already. I'm outnumbered twenty to one – I could never hold that many of them off. They know that. So why haven't they killed me already?_

The other side couldn't think of an answer to that.

Steeling his resolve, Caleb met the clone's gaze and nodded – hesitantly, but a nod nonetheless. Smiling almost imperceptively, the clone dipped his head and approached the boy.

...

Kix rolled up the left leg of the kid's trousers, revealing the wound once more. The rancid stench of pus and dead skin assaulted his nostrils; wrinkling his nose, the medic wetted one of the rages with antiseptic and prepared to swab down the burn. "Brace yourself, kid. This is gonna sting."

"You know, I've got a... OW!" The boy's leg gave a violent jerk. His booted left foot swung forward, coming into direct contact with Kix's forehead. Taken off guard, the medic was thrown onto the floor with a surprised _"oof!" _Kix lay there for a moment, nursing his throbbing temples and waiting for the world to stop spinning. The young Jedi winced. "S-sorry..."

Groaning, Kix sat up, gingerly feeling the bump that was rising between his eyes. It would probably make one heck of a bruise in an hour or so. "Well," he remarked, cracking a grin, "looks like you reflexes are working just fine."

The kid laughed, a good measure of his tension and fear dissolving with that one action. Climbing to his feet on unsteady legs, Kix felt his smile grow even wider. It was good to know that even after everything that had happened, the kid still knew how to smile.

Sobering up, Kix collected his materials from the floor (switching out the bandages for fresh, clean ones) and prepared to try again. "Okay, kid," he said, soaking another rag with the antiseptic. "I'm gonna brace your leg so that that doesn't happen again, but you gotta work with me. I need you to try and hold it still – can you do that?"

The boy nodded.

"Good."

Kix reached out and gently grasped his knee with his right hand, holding the leg steady. Raising the cloth in his left hand, he began to lightly dab the festered wound. The boy winced and recoiled slightly – not enough to escape Kix's reach, but enough to make the medic pause and look up at his patient's face. Grimacing, the kid forced himself to relax. After a moment, Kix resumed swabbing the burn.

"Rex said your name was Caleb, right?" Kix asked conversationally, discarding the cloth and twisting the top off of the flask of bacta salve.

"That's right," the kid replied, eying Kix nervously as he took out a fresh cloth and began covering it with the paste. "Caleb Dume."

Kix looked up long enough to flash the kid a friendly smile before grasping the boy's knee again and gently applying bacta into the burn. "My name's Kix," he told him, rubbing down the edges of the wound with the medicine. Caleb cringed, gritting his teeth in an effort to keep himself from shying away.

Not even glancing up from his work, Kix inquired, "How old are you, Caleb?"

"Fourteen," the boy replied, gripping the sides of the cot so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"Really?" Kix grinned impishly. "Me too!"

For a moment, Caleb just stared at him, his mouth half-open in confusion. Kix took the opportunity to bind the leg tightly with a fresh strip of gauze, hiding the burn from sight. Yelping in pain, Caleb yanked his leg out of the medic's reach, glaring vibroblades at him. Kix put up his hands and stepped back from the kid.

"Okay. We're done. Calm down."

Wincing, Caleb moved to stand upright; but the moment he put weight on his bad leg, he let out a hiss of pain and sat again. Kix smiled sympathetically. "I'll see we've got a crutch stored in here somewhere in here," he offered kindly, gesturing around the medbay. Gritting his teeth, Caleb nodded his thanks.

"Stay put," Kix ordered sternly. Nodding slowly, Caleb settled back to wait.

XXX

Ten minutes and three extra bandages later found Caleb's leg in a splint and a makeshift crutch constructed from random bits of broken instruments that Kix found lying around the medbay tucked under his left arm. Caleb tested the splint cautiously, gingerly placing his feet back on the ground and leaning his weight against the crutch. He nearly drooped in relief upon discovering that it not only held, but cut his pain level into at most a quarter of what it was before. Pleasantly surprised by the accomplishment, the boy found enough in himself to give the medic a grateful smile.

"Thanks," he mumbled, looking down and hobbling forward unsteadily, aided by Kix's homemade crutch.

"Whoa there, kid!" Kix exclaimed, putting his hands up and moving to stand in front of him. "You should rest that leg a little longer. You don't want to put too much strain on it, do you?"

Caleb scowled, irked by the interruption. "I want to know how many of my friends survived your little massacre," he snapped, trying in vain to shove the clone aside. He stumbled, nearly falling into the medic. Kix grabbed his shoulder, holding him steady and halting the fall.

Caleb shrugged his hand away like it was burning him. The fear that he had felt when he first boarded the ship and saw that it was packed full of clones was rapidly fading, replaced by a smothering rage. How dare those monsters act like they cared about his well-being after what they'd done! Who gave them the right to do that?!

Kix, surprised and stung by the harshness of Caleb's tone, gave the boy a good long look. "Caleb..." He sighed, crossing his arms. "You've gotta believe me; every man onboard this ship is here because they _didn't carry out the order._ I'm not lying," he added, seeing the padawan raise his eyebrows at him. "Why do you think we've gone through so much trouble to help you?"

Caleb looked away.

If he was honest with himself, Caleb really _did _believe the medic's words. In the several hours that he been aboard the freighter, he had not sensed any trace of malice or deception from any single one of the men. Looking at the evidence in front of his nose convinced him of their sincerity even more. He saw in the way that Rex had spoken to him and given him back his lightsaber. It was evident when the other clones had backed off to give him space when he first boarded. Most of all, it had shown through Kix, patching up his leg with such focus and care that there was no way that he could be doing anything other than trying to help.

But Caleb was also still grieving. No matter how hard he tried to, he couldn't get the images of his friends – no, his _family _– dying at the hands of clones like Rex and Kix out of his head. The memory of his master especially, holding off at least two dozen clone troopers and screaming at him to run, haunted him. He could still remember what it was like when he felt her die; the sensation of a rancor busting into his skull and seizing the part of him that was connected to her, yanking it and yanking it until the bond finally snapped as her life was cut short, releasing a torrent of pure agony throughout his entire body. And then, the emptiness inside him where she had been... the hollow ache in both his head and his chest where once her presence had made itself know to him.

The sensation of his entire universe collapsing around him – and it was because of soldiers like Kix.

Kix opened his mouth, about to speak again – but he was cut short when the ship gave a powerful lurch, throwing him against the wall and tossing Caleb to the ground. Both looked around in alarm, only to be thrown again as another shockwave tore through the ship. Both were on their feet in a moment, stumbling (and, in Caleb's case, hobbling clumsily with the help of a flimsy crutch) up to the cockpit to get a better look outside.

Rex was already there, shouting at Skip in a manner that only he could. "...the _fierfek _did THAT happen?! A ship can't just pop out of nowhere without anyone noticing it!"

"I don't know!" Skip was frantic, pushing buttons and flipping switches willy-nilly in his attempt to find out what the kriff was going on. "One minute it wasn't on the scopes, and the next it was! I just don't understand it! Ships that size aren't supposed to be equipped with cloaking devices!"

"What's going on?" Kix questioned, rushing forward to stand behind the pilot. His eyes were scanning outside the viewport with an unnerving hyper-focus. Caleb found himself inching slowly backwards, away from him even as he analyzed the space outside. These men were soldiers, trained to kill – he wasn't about to forget that.

"That kriffin' freighter sideswiped us!" Skip snapped, flipping another switch which brought up a display of the area outside. Squinting at it, Caleb frowned.

"What freighter?" he retorted. "There's nothing there!"

Another jolt shook the ship. A second later, the comm light began to flash. "They're hailing us," Skip reported.

"Patch 'em through," Rex ordered, his eyes narrowed to slits.

There was a moment of whirring static on the comm for a moment before a familiar voice piped up. "Good, it looks like I've got your attention."

"Who are you and what do you want?" Rex demanded, his voice harsh and threatening.

The clone manning the other ship gave a curt reply; "I know that you're the boys who've been smuggling survivors out of Coruscant."

(Caleb was surprised at this news. He hadn't expected any clone to ever stick his neck out to save a Jedi after what they had just pulled. Were these guys really that... different?)

It was Skip who responded, his voice shaking with anger. "Yeah? And what if we are? What's it to you?"

The man's reply completely floored Caleb.

"This is Sergeant Kane of the 104th clone battalion – and if General Koon's life means _anything _to you, you'll let me dock."

**Duhn duhn DUHN! **

**I'm willing to listen to ideas for things and/or characters to include in upcoming chapters. I've got a general idea of what I'm gonna do, but suggestions are always helpful ;)**

**Also, anyone who's read my other **_**Rebels **_**stories knows that I am a firm believer in Ephraim Bridger being a clone trooper. Would you guys want me to put him in this, or should I just stick to OCs and already known troopers? Input is appreciated!**

**Any flames will be removed from the review board (but constructive criticism is welcome). So please: REVIEW!**


	3. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**A/N: Whew, almost two months since last chapter! Geez, I really need to pick up my game... I feel like such a terrible person, leaving you guys hanging like this... sorry...**

**Anyhoo... I hope this'll tide you over for the time being.**

**Enjoy!**

There had been a time when Caleb had first become a padawan when he had been put in a similar position to where he was now. He'd been eleven at the time, going out with his master on his first real mission alongside their clone legion. Master Rahm Kota had been captured, and it had been up to them to set him free.

He remembered being sent along the left flank alongside the commander, trying to encircle the Separatist base where the general was being held. On the other side, Master Billaba was leading her own contingent. They had just finished surrounding the facility and were just preparing to make their move when Count Dooku's voice squawked out of every comlink.

"_I know what you intend to do," _the count had said. _"And let me assure you that you will fail. Now lay down you weapons; if you do not, General Kota and all of his militia men will be terminated." _His voice was filled with disdain as he added, _"Choose carefully, Jedi scum."_

They'd had no choice but to do as the count had said. They could not afford for the man they had come to rescue to get killed. So they'd fallen back to regroup, think up another plan, and try again the next day.

That time, they hadn't needed to; General Kota managed to free himself and the majority of his militia without too much of a problem. In the end, all he and his master were needed for was providing the man and his soldiers with transportation back to Coruscant. Everything had turned out fine. They hadn't even had to do all that much.

But Caleb had a feeling that the same would not occur with General Koon today. After what had happened a few days before, all across the galaxy, the chances of him being in good condition – assuming that he was _actually _alive – were slim to none. He and his rescuers were completely pinned down, and General Koon was most likely not going to last much longer.

The boy heard an infuriated tremble in Skip's voice as he replied to the sergeant's message. "What have you done, _traitor?!_"

"Nothing yet," the man replied carefully. "Don't get all excited and growly, good grief. It's like talking to a mad Trandoshan," he muttered.

Caleb saw a vein in Rex's forehead start to twitch. Baring his teeth, he lurched forward and all but _shouted _into the comlink "What the hell did you do to him?!"

"He's alive, if that's what you're asking," the man replied curtly. "But he won't be for much longer, unless you let me dock. Do you understand?"

Rex, Echo, Skip and Kix all glanced back at Caleb. The boy looked back at them fearfully. There was panic in their eyes, and despair and... worry? They were... worried about him? The padawan swallowed, looking at each one in turn. The quartet seemed lost, very frightened. And no small amount of that fright seemed to be for him. Because a hostile ship wanted to dock, and they _knew _that he would become an instant target if they discovered him there.

For the first time, Caleb felt a level genuine gratitude and even a bit of fondness for those men.

Rex and Echo exchanged glances, seemingly having a silent conversation. Echo's eyes flicked back towards Caleb in a questioning manner. Rex nodded wordlessly. With a heavy sigh, Echo turned around and seized the padawan's shoulder.

"Come with me," he murmured into the boy's ear. Swallowing, Caleb nodded.

The last he saw of the cockpit was the other three's terrified brown eyes as they watched him depart. Then the door slid closed and he and Echo were alone.

...

"This way."

Caleb was eerily silent as Echo led him back towards the hold, simply gritting his teeth and trailing behind like a shadow. It was a little unnerving, Echo thought, glancing back at the boy cautiously. The padawan's bright green eyes bored into his back, watching him with a wary, distrusting, borderline feral gaze. It was a new experience. Of course, there had been plenty of people who had looked at the ARC that way in the past, but never any Jedi. So seeing that look in the child's eyes was like a punch in the gut to him, driving home the reality of what his brothers had done.

Turning down another corridor, they squeezed past the medbay and turned a corner, emerging into the hold. Echo gritted his teeth, sweeping his eyes across the dozens and dozens of crates and storage cylinders in search of his quarry. Behind him, he could feel the boy's curious gaze watching him inquisitively, no doubt wondering what in the nine hells they were doing back there. Echo chuckled, shaking his head fondly even as he stepped forward to continue his search.

He stamped down on the metallic floor with his left foot, listening hard to the produced clanking sound. He could feel the Jedi's eyes staring hard at him. Glancing briefly over his shoulder, he saw Caleb gaping at him in utter bafflement.

"What... what are you _doing?_"

Echo stamped on another floor panel. "There's some old smuggling compartments somewhere back here," he replied, digging his heel into the durasteel. "They're big enough to keep you out of sight 'til the boarders leave." He kicked another patch of floor and was rewarded with a hollow clanging sound. "Aha! Success!"

He knelt down and felt the area at his feet, running his hands across the metallic surface before grasping something. Caleb dropped down into a crouch to get a better look. Echo lifted the hidden panel to reveal what looked like a mini computer terminal infused into the floor. He grinned. _Bingo. _He leaned over and quickly typed in the code (which he had set up remotely using the mechanical interface that was fused to the back of his head when he first came aboard the ship). There was a clicking sound. With a triumphant smirk, Echo seized the edges of the panel and heaved.

The gap below was barely two meters deep and three wide. Assorted bits of junk and broken instruments laid scattered across the floor. Exposed wires sparked in the walls. Worst of al, the stink of aged spice was rising up from it.

Despite the danger he was in, Caleb was not very grateful the hiding spot. Quite the opposite – he was absolutely appalled. "You're going to lock me in _there?!_"

"It can be opened manually from the inside," Echo replied patiently nodding at the hole. "You won't be locked in; the boarders will be locked _out._ Krif, what kind of sabuire do you think we are?" he added, feigning offense. The boy made a face.

"It smells like spice."

Echo unclipped his helmet from his belt and shoved it into the boy's hands. Caleb fumbled for a moment before finally managing to get a firm hold on it. He gave Echo a questioning look.

"There are air filters built into the face piece," Echo said simply. Caleb opened his mouth to ask something, but was cut off by the sound of hissing air.

The airlock was opening. The boarders were almost here.

"Inside, _now!_" Echo shoved Caleb towards the pit. Swallowing, Caleb put on the helmet and dropped down into it. The last Echo saw of him before the panel closed was the incredible terror shining in his bright green eyes.

Echo stared at the place where the kid had disappeared. "Force preserve us," he muttered, rubbing a gloved hand on his face. "Don't you dare die on us, kid."

XXX

Sergeant Kane was a lot of things.

He was a trickster, he was a liar, he was a killer and a cheat – but he was in _no _way, _ever _a traitor. He knew where his loyalties laid, even if so many of his brothers didn't. Order 66 may have been the hardest choice that he'd ever had to make, but to have acted differently than he had during it went against his very nature. Many _would _call him a traitor, but he was anything but.

A choice between the Jedi and the Republic? That was no contest.

When he made a promise, he kept it. When he cared about someone, he looked out for them. Kane was nothing if not loyal.

The question had been who he was _more _loyal to – his general or the Supreme Commander?

Kane was a killer.

But he wasn't a murderer. He wasn't the kind to stab someone who trusted him in the back. That went against everything he believed in.

Kane was no traitor. Not until he had been forced to choose. He just hoped he'd chosen correctly. It hadn't been an easy decision. Now all he could do was pray that it had been the right one.

The man recited these words in his mind over and over again as he waited anxiously for the docking procedure to finish. His shaggy black hair was soaked with sweat, pasting it flat against his forehead. Droplets of the salty liquid were wetting his beard, clinging to the short, prickly hairs like a starfish to a rock. Shifting from foot to foot, he cast his shadowed brown eyes to the floor. He gnawed his bottom lip nervously.

Patch and Baron had both offered to come with him. But he'd waved them off – they needed to watch the general, he'd said. And he meant it. The job he was currently doing only required one person. The one that they were doing required as many as was possible (which at the moment was only two, but he planned on fixing that).

The hissing sound of depressurizing air engulfed him as the airlock door slid open. Kane could just barely make out three figures hovering just beyond the doorway. The clone stepped forward... only the find four blasters – two rifles and two pistols – pointed at his face.

Freezing, Kane backed up a little and put up his hands. The trio followed him, their faces finally coming into view. Clones, naturally – but they were all a little different from each other. Distinctive – so much so, in fact, that Kane recognized one of them right away.

"Captain Rex." He dipped his head at the man in the middle, the one holding the two pistols. He had already taken note of the man's close-cropped blonde hair and the fierce expression on his face. "It's an honor."

Even in civvie clothes, the man was intimidating. Eyes narrowing to slits, Rex raised his two blasters even higher, even pressing one against Kane's forehead. "You're got ten seconds, _traitor_," he hissed, glaring vibroblades at the newcomer.

Kane sighed. He'd been expecting a reaction like this. Slowly, he put up his hands. "Look, I'll pay for any damage we did to your hull," he promised, glancing between all three of them nervously. The one on the left, a bald man with a rugged goatee, scowled all the harder. Kane continued; "I'm sorry for ramming you, I just wasn't sure if it was safe to use the long-distance comm."

Rex's fingers tightened around the grips. "Time's up," He started to squeeze...

"Wait!" Kane threw his hands in front of his face protectively. "I'm not here to fight you!"

"Then why are you here?" the clone to Rex's right, a dark-haired man with a complex, zigzagging pattern crisscrossing all over his buzzed hair, said distrustfully.

Kane wrung his hands. _I did the right thing. I'm no traitor. I can do this. He isn't going to die today. _Lifting his chin, he looked the man dead in the eye.

"I need your help."

**AAH! ANOTHER CLIFFHANGAR!**

**Oh well. That's just how I write, I guess... I seem to rather enjoy these types of endings, I've noticed...**

**If anyone is annoyed by Caleb's attitude in this story, let me remind you that he is fourteen years old. And maybe not EVERY fourteen-year-old is annoying, but I know that I was, and anyway, it just goes to show that maturity comes with experience. Plus, at this point, the only ones he really trusts are Kix and Rex. Skip, Echo and the others are still practical strangers. He'll get less obnoxious as the story progresses. A lot can change over a few years, after all.**

**Please review? Pretty please?**


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